Beautiful Music
by Freelancer
Summary: Aulë deals with unrequited love, rivalry with Irmo, and a certain treacherous Maia named Sauron... CH. 7: Melkor and his minions battle the Valar and do a number on Almaren, and Aulë and Sauron come face to face.
1. Introduction

Disclaimer: Alas, I own nothing… otherwise there would be no need for me to be writing fan fiction, would there?

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Introduction

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He'd known who she was since Eru breathed life into them, but they never crossed each others' paths until the Music of the Ainur.  She was a spirit of life, of things that were green and grew, and he was a spirit of fire and metal and things that were altered from their natural state by craftsmen.  In many ways, they were the exact opposite of each other, so they had no reason to meet.  But a meeting between them was inevitable, when Eru summoned the all the Ainur together, and their music created Arda.  The song she sang was one of beauty, life, and hope, and it stirred his heart in a way in he never thought possible.  It moved him so greatly that he, too, joined in the music, and their voices wove in and out of melody and harmony together.  Never before had two themes so different sounded so perfect, and forever afterward Aulë the Smith loved Yavanna, Queen of the Earth.

After the music, many of the Ainur descended into the world, into the sacred isle of Almaren, and took the forms similar to those of who would later be known as the Children of Iluvatar, though they could change these forms to others at will.  She would take the form of a tree sometimes, and summon green things out of the earth all around her, trees and grass and flowers.  He would often watch her from his forges, and he desired to make something in her likeness.  He crafted a jewel one day, a beautiful green leaf hung on a delicate chain of the finest gold that reminded him of the those in her branches as a tree, but he did not dare to give it to her.  They had never spoken, and he feared her reaction if he were to suddenly appear and tell her he loved her, even though they were as opposite as good and evil.

One day, not long after their descent into the world, Manwë summoned all the Ainur to the city of the Valar and proclaimed that their world was in need of a light greater than that provided by the stars of Varda Elentári.  Though they all loved her stars and rejoiced in their beauty, their light was indeed dim, and not enough could be made to provide Arda with the light it needed.  Manwë called for ideas as to what could be done, and it was Aulë who spoke first.  All eyes were fixed on him, including Yavanna's.  He would not disappoint them; he would not disappoint her.  He would complete this task for which he had volunteered, no matter how long the labors may be.

"I will create two great lamps," he told the Ainur, "one at each end of the world, and the light of their fires will fulfill our needs."

"Then so be it," said Manwë, and Aulë left to complete his task.

His labors were long and difficult, but at last they were complete.  Two lamps now shed light upon the world: Illuin in the north, and Ormal in the south.  The Valar rejoiced in his creation, and also in the feats of Tulkas, who had successfully driven Melkor from their land.  A great celebration was held in Almaren, where the light of the two lamps mingled, and though Aulë was weary, he felt compelled to attend.

It is here that our story begins.


	2. Chapter One

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Chapter One

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Nessa's dancing was not a thing to miss, and Aulë felt some of his weariness lifted as she stepped and spun in time with the music.  He was seated on a stone bench some distance away from the others, but still had a clear view of the center of attention.  His time for glory had come and gone, and he was thankful that his work was appreciated; he did not like being the focus of things.  Yavanna had smiled at him, and that was all the thanks he needed or wanted.  He wondered where she was now.

His eyes left Nessa and began scanning the area for Yavanna.  He saw her standing underneath a willow tree with three others; her sister, Vána, Oromë, and Irmo.  Oromë and Vána had wed recently, and Aulë could not help noticing that though they were watching Nessa like everyone else, their gazes continuously strayed toward each other.  He wondered if he would ever look at anyone like they were.

"You should join us.  They are asking about you."

Aulë's eyes turned away from Yavanna and her companions and toward the familiar face of Ulmo, Lord of Waters.  "Hello, Ulmo," he said.  "Thank you for your concern, but I can see fine from here."

Ulmo sat down next to Aulë on the bench and handed him a goblet of wine.  Aulë thanked him and looked at the wine, but did not drink.  "I am tired," he admitted, studying the reddish purple liquid inside the goblet as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

"I know you are, my friend," was Ulmo's reply, "but must you really isolate yourself like this?"

Aulë apologized and took a drink of the wine.  He offered no further explanation to his behavior, though, and looked up at the sound of soft applause.  Nessa's dance had ended.  He looked at Yavanna again.  She and Irmo were talking now.  He reached out and brushed a few strands of her auburn hair out of her eyes, and took his time with pulling his hand away.  She smiled at him.  Aulë looked away and took another drink of wine, hoping Ulmo did not notice the hurt in his eyes.

He should not have hoped for so much.  "You love her."

Aulë choked on the wine.  "Yavanna?" he said.  "Why would you say that?  She and I… there is nothing we have in common."  It was as much the truth as it was himself trying to convince himself that he and Yavanna would never be happy with each other.

Ulmo nodded.  "I know.  And that is why you love her."

Aulë's mind was spinning, searching for a way out.  Ulmo was not married.  Ulmo did not have one person continuously staking claim to his thoughts.  Ulmo did not know.  But then again, Ulmo had witnessed firsthand the courtship of Manwë and Varda.  Ulmo was the one to whom Manwë came when he feared the heart of his beloved had favored his brother.  Ulmo was the one who assured Manwë that Varda rejected Melkor and that he in turn hated and feared her.  Ulmo did know.

Ulmo continued.  "She intrigues you, Aulë.  I have seen this.  She is your opposite in every way but the One whom we serve.  We all heard the theme the two of you created during the Music, and we all were amazed at its sound."

Aulë drained the goblet and said, "One theme does not lead to an eternity of devotion."

_It did for Námo and Vair_, Ulmo thought, recalling the moment his two friends bound themselves to each other.  He kept the thought to himself.

Aulë sighed, and his shoulders slumped.  "I love her, Ulmo."  Admitting it was bittersweet.  He looked at her again, smiling and laughing with Irmo.  "But she appears to favor Irmo."  He was more powerful than the Master of Dreams, but that meant nothing.  That power could not sway the heart of Yavanna.  Such a power did not exist.

"Trust not what you see by your eyes until they are confirmed by the truth," Ulmo replied.  "It is true that Irmo and Yavanna would be a good match; their powers are great and they share a love of things that grow.  It is true that their friendship is strong and if they were lovers, their love for each other would be impossible to break.  But it is also true that there is another who has caught Irmo's eye."

"Estë," Aulë said, mostly to himself..  He had great respect for this kind lesser lady of the Valar, but he could not understand how anyone could be favored over Yavanna, and said so.

"You say that because it is Yavanna and Yavanna alone whom you love," said Ulmo.  "So quick to volunteer for Manwë's task, and yet so hesitant to make known your love; you are a very confusing spirit, Aulë.  Difficult to predict."

Aulë looked at his hands.  They were rough from the work he did in the forges, and creating the Lamps did not help to smooth that rough touch.  He wondered if Yavanna's hands were rough, too; she spent almost as much time working with them as he did with his.

"I… I think I fear that which I cannot know for certain," he said.  "I knew I could create something that could give light to the world.  I do not know if Yavanna would accept me."

"No, you do not know that," Ulmo agreed.  "But is the chance not worth taking?"

Aulë looked at him.

Ulmo continued.  "You cannot win that for which you do not fight."

In his heart, Aulë knew Ulmo was right.  He would never have a chance with Yavanna if he didn't take one.  He knew what he had to do.

Aulë stood.  "I will take my leave of you now, my friend," he said.  "I must do this before my sanity returns."

Ulmo smiled as Aulë crossed the green lawn toward Yavanna.  His hopes were high.  He could see in Aulë's eyes that he truly loved her in spite of all their differences.  But whether or not Yavanna could return this love was unknown.

They would know soon enough.


	3. Chapter Two

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Chapter Two

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With a wistful sigh, Yavanna Kementári turned her gaze to the north, then to the south, and finally, to her left, where Irmo stood with an amused smile on his face.  "It is so good to have light," she said to her companion.

Irmo nodded in agreement.  "Yes, it is," he said.  "Aulë's skill is great."

Yavanna sighed again and placed her hand on the trunk of the willow tree.  "I am as pleased as we all are by his feat, but at the same time, I am saddened," she confessed.  "It is light shed by fire, and fire brought forth by the burning of wood.  Are the works of my hands to be created only to be destroyed by his?"

He did not have an answer to her question.

She looked across the lawn, where many of the other Valar were assembled in a group.  It looked as though Nessa was getting ready to dance again.  Tulkas was helping her stand.  Yavanna recognized the looks on their faces; they were the same looks exchanged by Oromë and Vána.  "Tulkas is in love with Nessa."

"You are certain?" Irmo asked.

She nodded.  "I am certain.  The way they look at each other… I can tell."

"Eyes can be deceptive," he replied.  "They should not be trusted, and used only to confirm what is known by the soul."

Yavanna laughed and took a playful swipe at him.  "I do not need another lesson in matters of the soul from you, Master of Dreams."

Irmo laughed, too, and stepped back so he was a safe distance beyond her reach.  "Very well.  I shall refrain from instructing you with my skills if you instruct me with yours."

Yavanna knew of Irmo's desire to create a magnificent garden, and for a brief moment, an image of the two of them standing side by side underneath a canopy of leaves and boughs flashed in her mind.  She liked the image.  She knew Irmo would be a good husband to her, and that she would be a good wife to him.   Together, they would do great and beautiful things.

"I would be honored to aid your dreams in whatever ways I can."

Irmo could think of many ways in which Yavanna could honor his dreams, and he smiled as he perceived that she intended the double meaning.  "Yavanna, I…"

"Yes?"

A startled look crossed Irmo's face.  "Aulë."

"Aulë?" Yavanna repeated.

She turned around and saw the Smith standing behind her.  "Aulë!"

"Irmo, Yavanna," Aulë greeted them respectfully.  "Oromë.  Vána."

Oromë and Vána returned his greeting, then excused themselves, leaving to join the company of the other Valar.

Aulë wished they had not gone.  He felt vulnerable in the presence of Irmo and Yavanna.  His sanity began to return.  Why had he let Ulmo talk him into this?

"To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?" Irmo asked.

Aulë could feel Irmo's mind searching his.  It was not Irmo's fault; it was simply a reflexive action his powers took when he was in close proximity with another.  By concentrating, Aulë was able to keep Irmo out of his most secret thoughts.  The last thing he wanted was for Irmo to learn of his unlikely love for Yavanna.

"I… er… Ulmo…"  Aulë struggled to find the right words.

"Your lamps are beautiful," Yavanna said.

"Thank you," Aulë replied, though he could detect the hint of antipathy lingering in her voice.

"Yes," Irmo agreed.  He smiled.  "Your skills are great."

"My skills are no greater than those of any other of our order," Aulë said, "and they are nothing if they cannot be used to bring joy to the world."

Irmo and Yavanna looked at each other, and Aulë realized they were not as delighted with his creation as the other Valar.  He sighed and turned his head away, making a promise to himself to never listen to Ulmo again.  Irmo and Yavanna were meant for each other.  It was obvious.

"Excuse me," Aulë said quietly, and turned to leave.

"Wait," Yavanna said, reaching out and placing her hand on his arm.

Aulë jumped at Yavanna's touch.  Her hands were indeed rough as he'd expected, but it was the lightest and most delicate roughness he'd ever felt.

"We have not offended you, have we?" Yavanna asked.

"It would be impossible for you to offend me, Kementári," Aulë replied, a little too quickly.

Yavanna smiled at him and pulled her hand away.  "All things are possible, Aulë."

_Not all things_, Aulë thought, and a pang shot through his heart.

"Look," said Irmo.  "Nessa is beginning another dance."

And Vána had joined her.  Oromë and Tulkas stood next to each other, smiling proudly as their beloveds moved in time with the music and each other.  Nessa was the swifter of the two, but Vána was more graceful.  Both were delightful to watch, and there was none who had not taken notice of the encore.

Yavanna sighed happily as the three of them watched the dancers.  "Vána can dance so well."  She did not share her sister's love of dancing, and therefore, not the skill, either.

"Oromë is very lucky," Irmo said.

Aulë had to agree.  Yavanna's sister was the next best thing to Yavanna herself.  And Oromë and Vána were an unlikely match.  Oromë was a hunter and warrior, whereas Vána was quiet and gentle.  Aulë knew they were not as unlikely a pair as himself and Yavanna, but if Oromë and Vána could find happiness in each other, was there a chance?

Yavanna looked to Aulë, wondering just why the Smith had come over to them.  To the best of her knowledge, he was close to neither Irmo nor Oromë, and she never heard Vána speak of him.  In fact, of the four of them, it was she who had the greatest amount of prior contact with Aulë, and that was through their duet during the creation of the world.  Their music had been surprisingly beautiful, and she thought back to it on occasion, but it was not prominent in her thoughts; there was little she and Aulë had in common, and therefore, growing closer to him was not one of her priorities at this point in time.  Was he here to make an effort to reach out to her?  If he was, she was not going to deny him.

Aulë glanced in her direction and saw that she was looking at him, too.  Their eyes met, and she smiled.  By the time it occurred to him to smile back, he'd already looked away.  He felt ashamed of himself.  How was he supposed to work up the courage to tell Yavanna how he felt if he could not even look her in the eye?

"Aulë?" Yavanna said.

"I'm sorry," Aulë said, forcing himself to look at her, into her deep green eyes, shining like emeralds out of her perfect face.  He was sorry.  He was sorry he ever allowed himself to fall in love with her.

He excused himself again, and this time, did not allow them to stop him.


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

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Irmo and Yavanna watched Aulë leave, then looked at each other. "Do you…" Irmo began.

Yavanna shook her head. "I am as surprised as you are. He is a strange one."

"Strange, yes," Irmo agreed, "but he has a good heart."

"Indeed he does," Yavanna said with a sigh, and thought back to their duet. Their first encounter had been one of unmatched beauty and symmetry, and she often wondered why he never approached her since then. Perhaps she could track him down and ask him sometime.

_But not yet_, she thought, looking to Irmo. _Not yet_.

Irmo smiled and took her hand. "Yavanna, there is something I must ask you."

* * *

Aulë found Ulmo conversing with Manwë and Varda in the middle of the crowd. The three of them greeted him warmly, and he returned their welcome as graciously as he could. His introverted demeanor was not helped by the combination of weariness and rejection. The last thing he wanted was to be in the company of his cheerful friends.

The beaming Manwë embraced Aulë like a brother and said, "Your lamps are more glorious than I imagined they would be," the King of Arda said. "Well done, my friend."

Varda smiled at him in agreement with her husband. Aulë, who had a difficult enough time looking at her under normal circumstances, could not withstand the radiance she emanated when she smiled. Only Manwë could.

Aulë sighed. Manwë and Varda, Súlimo and Elentári, the king and queen, who loved and needed each other like the sea loved and needed water. It was all rather… depressing.

"Thank you," Aulë said. "I wish only that there was more I could have done."

"Your chance will come," Manwë replied. "Now that all have seen what you are capable of, I doubt the fires of your forges will ever go out."

He, Ulmo, and Varda chuckled. Aulë managed a smile.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Aulë?" Varda asked.

Aulë sighed. "Not as much as I should be," he said. "I am weary."

Varda nodded sympathetically. "You look weary," she said. "You should rest."

"I would not want anyone to misinterpret my reasons for-"

"Nonsense," Manwë interrupted. "Take some rest and recover your strength, friend. You have done enough."

Aulë and Ulmo looked at one another, but neither spoke. Ulmo had questions for the Smith, but he could tell by the melancholy look in Aul's dark eyes that they would not be answered. And he needed no answers. It was clear that the encounter had not gone as well as he'd hoped.

No words were exchanged among any of them until Aulë was gone. Then Manwë looked at Ulmo said, "There is more resting on Aul's than he is willing to let us know. You know this, do you not?"

Varda responded before Ulmo could. "Yavanna."

"Yavanna?" Manwë repeated, glancing at his farsighted queen. "Of course…"

"How long have you known?" Ulmo asked.

"Since the Music," Varda replied. "I believe it is entirely possible that the only one who is not aware of Aul's feelings for her is Yavanna herself."

Out of the corner of his eye, Manwë noticed someone coming toward the three of them, then said, "And I believe that may soon change."

* * *

Aul's halls were located deep inside the earth, carved out of stone and marble and lit with gems he crafted out of fire. He did not believe in the burning of wood; there was not enough of it in the world to fulfill his needs, and the thought of destroying his beloved's creations to further his own bothered him. Therefore, every fire that burned within his forges was lit with an imperishable flame given to him by Eru Himself. Aulë devised a way to capture the fire inside a crystal, and the flames could be released upon the breaking of their container. The greatest of these crystals were the two placed in the two Lamps, Illuin and Ormal, where his revolutionary creations could shed their light upon the entire world.

The halls were nearly deserted; all his Maiar were at the festivities save one: Curumë, who was in the forges melting metal for future uses. Aulë was not surprised to see Curumë; at the celebration, he'd gotten into an argument with Olórin, a Maia of Manwë and Varda, and left soon after. Aulë and Curumë acknowledged each other with nods of their head in passing, but did not speak. Neither was in the mood for conversation.

Aulë gripped the handles of his massive doors, pulled them open, then went inside his bedchamber. He took off his heavy ceremonial robes, deep red velvet lined and accented with gold, and draped them over a chair as the deep rumbling of the doors closing echoed throughout the large stone room. He could have easily collapsed there, but he found enough strength to make it to his bed, where he proceeded to lie down and let exhaustion take him.

* * *

Yavanna halted just outside the stone arch that led into Aul's halls and wondered if it was wise to follow through with her good intentions at this time. His strange behavior confused her, and she wanted to make sure he was all right, but she did know he was tired, and Ulmo enigmatically hinted that she might not be the best one for him to see at this point in time. Nevertheless, she knew she would not be able to take her mind off him until she knew everything would be fine.

The stone mansions were empty. Yavanna was not surprised. Everyone was at the celebration, everyone save Aulë and whoever was hammering away in the forges. She doubted it was Aulë himself; he appeared too weary to work when she last saw him. She followed the sound anyway. If it was not Aulë, then it was someone who could lead her to him.

Just as she suspected, it was not Aulë, but rather Curumë, the greatest of not only Aul's people, but of all the Maiar. Yavanna did not completely trust Curumë, but that did not matter here and now. All that mattered was Aulë.

Curumë saw Yavanna almost as soon as she saw him. "Kementári," he said, laying down his hammer. "To what does the house of the Talca Marwa owe the honor of this visit?"

"I seek the master of your house, Curumë," Yavanna returned. "Is he within?"

* * *

Even in his state of exhaustion, Aulë could not sleep through the deep rumbling that echoed through his bedchamber when someone knocked on the door.

Cursing himself for not taking the time to ask Curumë not to admit any visitors, Aulë walked over to the door, taking a scarlet cape off the wall and throwing it around his shoulders as he drew closer. He opened the door.

"Curumë."

"You have a visitor," Curumë informed him.

Aulë sighed. It was probably Ulmo. Ulmo was the last person Aulë wanted to see right now. "I am very tired, Curumë," he said. "Please pass my apologies onto the visitor and send him away."

"She," came a female voice from behind Curumë, "asks your forgiveness and will leave you in peace when she hears from you that you are all right."

Aulë stiffened, and suddenly did not feel quite so tired anymore. "… Yavanna?"

* * *

A/N: Curumë is, in fact, Sauron! According to Christopher Tolkien, "Sauron" means "the abhorred," so I don't think that would be his original name if he was more or less one of the good guys to begin with. The Quenya root word _curu _means "skill" or "skilled," and this name is intentionally similar to Saruman's true name, Curumo.

Talca Marwa is a title of Aulë meaning "Smith of the world"


	5. Chapter Four

I wish there were more stories about the Valar. Ah well.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

* * *

She was here. Why was she here? Why was he half-naked? Feeling rather self-conscious, Aulë pulled the edges of the cape toward his body in hopes of covering up his dark, muscular chest. It did not cover near as much as he would have liked. So much for dignity.

Yavanna noticed his attractive torso – how could she not? – and quickly looked away when Aulë failed in his attempt to adopt a more modest appearance, feeling rather embarrassed herself.

Curumë snickered.

"Thank you, Curumë," Aulë said to the Maia. "You are dismissed."

Still smirking, Curumë left them, and Aulë turned to Yavanna.

"Is… is everything all right?" he asked cautiously.

"That is what I came here to ask you," Yavanna replied. "I am worried about you. At the festival you were acting so… strange."

How could he explain the reasons for his behavior to her? He couldn't… not without holding out his heart for her to take or break. Ulmo's words returned to him: "But is the chance not worth taking?" He wanted to believe it was. It was so easy when they weren't standing face to face.

"Would you like to sit down?" he asked, gesturing inside his bedchamber.

She nodded and followed him inside. They sat down on a stone bench upholstered with a red velvet cushion. Yavanna looked around in awe at all the firestones lighting the room and said, "Those lights… how did you make them?"

Aulë, feeling rather pleased that she'd noticed them, was only too happy to explain how they'd been made. "When we descended into the world, Eru gave me an imperishable flame that we use here in the forges," he said. "I devised a way to capture the fire within a crystal, and they gave us light to work by when the world was still dark. The crystals I placed in Illuin and Ormal are as large as this room."

Yavanna could not believe her ears. "Then… the fire does not burn wood?"

He shook his head. "No, of course not. I will not agree to the use of wood as fuel for our fires."

That changed things. That changed things a lot. Yavanna felt thoroughly ashamed about what she said to Irmo earlier, about resenting Aulë's creations because she believed they destroyed hers. "Aulë, I must apologize," she said. "I wrongly believed that burning wood was used to provide the fire for the lamps, and I passed judgment on you that I should not have."

Aulë was moved by her apology, but did not think it necessary. "Do not feel you need to apologize, Yavanna," he said. "It was not wrong of you to be concerned for your creations."

"But it _was_ wrong of me to believe something that was not true," she said, and placed her hand on his arm. Aulë's heart raced. "Forgive me?"

"There is nothing to forgive."

"Aulë, please."

He still felt there was nothing to apologize for, but she was clearly distressed, so he granted her request.

She smiled. "Thank you."

Aulë wanted to say something, to keep their conversation going so she would not leave, but he could not think of anything. Luckily, she did it for him, although the question she asked was not one he was ready to answer. "Do you ever think back to our part in the Music?"

_Only a few times every hour_, he thought. "Yes; from time to time," he said. "Do… do you?"

Yavanna nodded. "Yes, I do. They say ours was the most beautiful theme of all, and that the world first took shape when our voices joined."

"Yes, I have been told that, too."

They looked into each others' eyes, both shining with curiosity and desire. "It was you who joined me," Yavanna recalled. "Why?"

He could see that there would be no escaping telling her how he really felt. Aulë was terrified at what could result, especially after seeing her with Irmo, but he had no choice. It was time for the truth to come out. He took a deep breath and began his confession.

"Your voice was – and still is – the most beautiful thing I have ever heard," he said. "I don't know why I joined you, but I do know it was the only thing I could have done. I was so afraid that my voice would be unworthy next to yours, or that you would reject my song, or that the others would hate me for ruining music as glorious as yours."

"But it was perfect," Yavanna said. "And why was it not until this day that our paths crossed again?"

"For the reason that I am afraid still," he said. It was time. "I love you."

Those words were the last she expected to hear. "Aulë…"

"I know it is foolish, even wrong for me to feel this way, but I cannot help it," he said. It was liberating to finally confess his feelings, and he could not have stopped there even if he wanted to. "I love you. There is no way I could _not_ love you." He took a few deep breaths as his fervor died down and looked at her perfect face, frozen in bewilderment. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to shock you."

"A sudden, unprovoked declaration of love IS shocking, Aulë."

"I know, I know, and I am sorry. I do not know what came over me."

Yavanna did. She realized that she'd trapped him, and the only way out of this trap was for him to tell his secret. And now that it was out in the open, she didn't know what to do. The last explanation she expected to hear for his behavior was that he was in love with her.

"You are angry," Aulë observed.

"No, I am not," she insisted. "I could not be angry. I am just confused."

"I am sorry. I do not know what else to say."

Neither did she. She didn't want to hurt him, but could this situation be worked out without hurting anyone?

"I know that you could never love me-"

"Aulë-"

"-but please hear me out." He was shaking. He didn't know whether it was from fatigue or fear. Probably both. "I have already begun to say this. It must be finished."

She nodded. "I understand."

His eyes dropped to the stone floor. "I do not know your heart, and I know I never will," he said. Then he straightened and looked at her. "But I do know mine. You are my opposite in every way, the light to my dark, the water to my fire, the hope to my despair, and for this and more, I will love you until the final theme plays and this world and all those bound to it fade into nothing."

Even if Yavanna could have thought of anything to say to that, it was not within her power to speak.

Aulë was almost as shocked by his revelation as Yavanna. He turned his head away. "I am finished."

Ulmo would have been proud. Aulë was going to kill him.

"Aulë… I feel…" She didn't know what she felt. Stunned. Confused. Perhaps even a little angry. However, the prominent emotion was, to her great surprise, curiosity.

He sighed and looked at her again. He'd already put so much at stake; what was a little more? "Yavanna?"

She looked at him, and suddenly didn't feel quite so curious anymore. She knew what he wanted. In his eyes, she saw fear, but beyond the fear was pure, unconditional, perfect love. Perhaps… how much harm could be caused by one kiss?

"Yes?"

Their faces were moving closer with every pounding heartbeat.

And then stopped.

For a moment, it looked as though Aulë was going to pull away. Yavanna would not have that – not now, not after he risked so much by opening his heart to her. Why? Because she pitied him? Because she admired his honesty? Because she wanted to kiss him? She didn't know. What she did know, though, as soon as Aulë's lips touched hers, was that every word he spoke about his love for her was true.

The kiss was by no means aggressive, but neither was it passive. Yavanna was struck by the passion and intensity with which Aulë kissed her; she had not known he was capable of such a tender, heartfelt display of emotion. His kiss, like his love for her, was pure, innocent, from his entire heart, and his very reason for existing. Irmo had never kissed her like this…

_Irmo!_

Yavanna pulled away, her eyes stinging with guilty tears. "I'm so sorry, Aulë," she said. "I should not have done that. Please forgive me."

Aulë didn't understand. "What do you mean?"

She stood up and half walked, half ran toward the door. Aulë followed her. "Yavanna," he said, "what is wrong?"

"You are wrong to love me," she said. The number of tears on her face made Nienna's eyes seem dry. "Your love is too wonderful, too perfect for me. I will never be worthy of it."

"How can you say this?" he asked.

She opened the door. When she was halfway out, she looked back at him and said, "I am to marry Irmo."

* * *


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

* * *

Aulë slept after that, but not well. The kiss was beautiful, wonderful, everything he imagined it would be and more, but it should never have been given. She was to marry Irmo. What could he do? Irmo and Yavanna belonged together. Who was he to contest their bliss?

He gave up after a few fitful hours, then got up and dressed himself. As he was tying back his long, dark hair to keep it out of his face while he worked, his eyes fell upon the necklace he'd made for and never given to Yavanna. The jewel caught the light from the crystals that illuminated the room and sparkled, laughing at him, mocking his pain. He seized the necklace, and for a moment, thought about crushing it. Then he changed his mind. It was a beautiful jewel, unique in its color, cut, design, and detail, and its likeness would never be produced again. Perhaps he could give it to Nessa as a wedding gift; they all knew it would not be long before she and Tulkas were married. Yes, that would suffice. It would not be as fitting for Nessa as it would Yavanna, but at least it would not go to waste.

He kept the necklace with him when he went down to the forges; wrapping the chain around his wrist several times, then securing the clasp, transforming it into a bracelet. He contemplated what to make as he descended the winding stone stairs that led down to his furnace. Perhaps some more fire crystals; those were always in demand. If nothing else, it would be somewhere to start.

"Lord Aulë!" came a voice from behind.

Aulë stopped and turned around. Three Maiar were making their way down the stairs after him. There was Eönwë, the noble herald of Manwë and the second greatest of the Maiar behind Aulë's Curumë. Behind Eönwë was wise Ilmarë, the handmaiden of Varda, and a half-stride behind her was the lady of the rivers, the beautiful Sírënis of the people of Ulmo. What reason could they possibly have for coming to him?

It was Eönwë who had spoken. The three of them halted when they had Aulë's attention and bowed their heads respectfully. "The Lord Súlimo and Varda Elentári have asked us to deliver a message on behalf of Tulkas Astaldo and the Lady Nessa," Eönwë continued. "Tulkas and Nessa are to be wed in a matter of hours, and they would be honored to have you present."

So Tulkas and Nessa were to marry sooner than he had anticipated. At any rate, Aulë was glad to be right about _something_. "Thank you, Eönwë," he said. "Let us depart at once."

Eönwë and Ilmarë turned around and led the way out, but Sírënis lingered, waiting for Aulë. He noticed this, and was not surprised. He had been wondering why she was even there in the first place. "You are not of their people, yet you deliver a message with the servants of Manwë and Varda, Sírënis," Aulë said. "Should I warn Ulmo that the heart of the Sea's greatest treasure lies not within his watery depths, but with the skies and stars?"

Sírënis smiled, and Aulë did too despite the heaviness on his heart. The two of them had always been fond of each other.

"No, I am as loyal to my lord as I have always been," Sírënis answered. "I also bear a message for you, and this message comes from Ulmo."

Aulë suppressed a groan. He was angry at Ulmo for persuading him to speak with Yavanna when he thought better of it; now it had backfired in a way more horrible than he'd ever imagined. He was curious as to what Ulmo would have to say about the incident, but not to the point where he wanted to see the Lord of Waters any time soon.

"And what is this message?"

"He wishes to speak with you at once."

He suspected as much. "Did he say what he wished to discuss?"

Sírënis hesitated before answering and looked as if she would say no, but she knew Aulë would see that she was lying. "Yes," she said quietly.

"Yavanna," Aulë said, more to himself than to his companion.

Sírënis spoke in the affirmative again.

"So he has told you, too." Aulë made fists with his hands, and when that did not relieve his tension, he threw his hands into the air and cried, "Must all of Arda know that I love her?"

Eönwë and Ilmarë stopped walking and looked back at him with curious expressions on their faces.

"Well, if all of Arda didn't know before, they do now," said Sírënis.

Aulë scowled. Eönwë and Ilmarë looked at each other, then continued walking. Aulë and Sírënis did the same. So focused were they on their own thoughts and duties that none sensed the presence of the evil drawing closer, watching their every move and waiting for the chance to make one of his own.

* * *

He waited until they were gone before he stole into Aulë's halls, dark, swift, and shrouded in shadows. He did not know how much time he would have, but he did know that it would be enough. The wedding would keep Aulë out of his abode long enough for him to complete his task. All he had to worry about was finding his target.

He heard the hammering sound of metal against metal echoing through the stone corridors, and followed the sound until he reached the forge where the Maia Curumë was shaping an iron rod. He smiled to himself, and his shadows leaked into the room.

"Curumë…" the darkness whispered.

Curumë dropped the hammer and picked up the red-hot rod. "Who's there?"

The shadows condensed into a physical form.

The rod hit the floor, too.

"You!" Curumë exclaimed.

"Me."

Melkor.

"Why are you here?"

"For you," came the answer. "I've watched you for a long time, Curumë. You are too powerful, too ambitious for what they have made you."

Curumë scowled and picked up the hammer and rod. He knew Melkor was trying to make him angry. And it was working.

"You should have been a Vala, Curumë," Melkor continued, "not a servant to those who are weak and compassionate."

Curumë placed the rod back into the fire of the forge and began hammering it.

"Do not let Aulë hold you back, Curumë," Melkor said, stepping closer to the Maia. "He knows what you can become, and he fears you for it."

"Aulë fears no one," Curumë said between hammer strokes. "Not even you."

"He fears Yavanna."

Curumë brought the hammer down so hard that the rod broke. "You lie."

"I do not," Melkor replied. "Can you not see it in his eyes, in the way he trembles when she is near?" He smiled and leaned in toward Curumë. "She was here. I know you know she was – you admitted her."

Curumë did not speak.

"What happened between them, Curumë?" Melkor asked. "What went on behind closed doors? Why was she weeping when she left?"

As before, Curumë remained silent. He knew as well as Melkor did that they both knew what happened between Aulë and Yavanna.

"Can you truly allow yourself to be ruled by one whose will is so fragile?"

"He loves her."

"Love _is_ fear, Curumë," Melkor said. "Control fear, and you will control all." He extended his hand. "I will teach you to control it. Join me. You know what you are. Let me show you what you can become."

"My name is not Curumë."

"Then what is it?"

He placed his hand in Melkor's. "It is Sauron."

* * *

The wedding ceremony was short and beautiful. Aulë was unable to enjoy it; he could think of only when Irmo and Yavanna would be as delighted as Tulkas and Nessa. He wondered if Ulmo knew of their betrothal yet. Knowing that he would have to face Ulmo sooner or later, Aulë asked Sírënis to find him. Sírënis departed and returned only moments later with the Lord of Waters.

Aulë and Ulmo did not speak at once. Even after Sírënis excused herself and left, they were silent.

It was Aulë who finally broke the silence. "You told Sírënis."

"And for that I apologize. I… I consulted Sírënis to ask her if my course of action was the wisest."

Aulë could understand why Ulmo did so, and he was not angry. There always existed a great deal of intimacy between a Vala and their greatest Maia; there was no one Aulë himself trusted more than Curumë. It was only natural that Ulmo would confide in Sírënis.

"It was I who told Yavanna you had returned to your halls," Ulmo continued. "And it was I whom she came to afterward."

"Then you know everything."

Ulmo nodded.

"It is hopeless, Ulmo," Aulë said. "Irmo and Yavanna are to be married. She told me herself."

"But if their love was true, you would not have been able to tempt her," said Ulmo.

Aulë sighed. "I should have known, Ulmo," he said. "I should have known from the very beginning. Now I must watch her forever and know she can never be mine."

"Aulë," Ulmo said, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder, "believe me when I say I know how you feel."

Aulë glared at Ulmo and jerked away. "How can you know?" he snapped. "How can you be so knowledgeable in matters of the heart when you have no love of your own?"

"What if I told you that I do?" Ulmo whispered.

Aulë stared at him. "What?"

Although Aulë pressed him for an explanation, Ulmo would speak no more. Someday they would all find out whom Ulmo spoke of in his enigmatic response to Aulë's accusation, but it would not be for many years. But his story is not this one, and it shall be told another time.

Suddenly, a great thundering sound was heard, and then the voices of the world's inhabitants, wondering what evil had befallen them. The thunder soon faded, and from its silence emerged a horrible, malicious laughter. And then… darkness.

"The Lamps!" a voice cried. Aulë suspected it to be Eönwë, but he could not be certain.

"How?" Ulmo asked. "The Lamps are at opposite ends of the world. How could both be destroyed at once?"

Then the green lawns of Almaren became engulfed in fire.

"What is this evil?" came the same voice as before. It was indeed Eönwë, as Aulë suspected.

From the north, flame and shadow condensed into a form they all knew: Melkor. And from the south…

"No!" Aulë said, feeling his knees go weak. "Curumë…"

* * *

Some quick words from yours truly.

I feel obligated to explain Sírënis. She appears in a story I'm currently working on set in the Second Age. She's not an original character; I took a character mentioned in passing in Fellowship of the Ring and gave said character a name and a backstory. (Her name is a combination of two Quenya words; if you can figure out the meaning you can probably figure out who she is). Right, so that's her.

And now to address something that's been brought up a few times: Estë. I actually have about 3/4 of this story written and all of it outlined, and I can't change my plot or risk inconsistency with what's already up, but I can tell you this: Estë will appear and she won't hook up with Aulë, although something _does_ happen regarding Aulë's choice of love interest that makes her pretty angry. Keep your eyes open for that; it won't be long. :)


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

* * *

Manwë held up his arms and called for silence. Next to him, Varda was glaring at Melkor with stars burning in her eyes, and Melkor was staring back at her with a look of equal contempt. The hate that existed between the two of them ran deeper than any knew.

"Melkor, what is the meaning of this?" Manwë demanded.

"The meaning of everything: purpose," Melkor sneered in reply. "Your purpose is to create, and mine is to destroy!"

With that, he raised his arm, and out of the darkness came a host of hideous creatures, wreathed in shadow and flame: Balrogs. The greatest of the creatures carried a whip of fire and took his place next to his master. In the south, more of them were rising out of the fire behind Curumë.

"Gothmog," Melkor said, nodding toward Manwë and Varda.

The Balrog raised his whip and cast it toward the king and queen of the Valar. Manwë used one arm to pull Varda close to him and shield her with his body, and with the other, seized the end of the whip. With a great cry, he pulled the whip free from the hands of its holder and cast it aside. Gothmog charged at them, but Varda held her hands aloft, and in each hand shone a star. The Balrog stopped, and a shrill howl pierced their ears as he shrank back into the darkness.

Melkor was not fazed by Gothmog's retreat. He had many more Balrogs at his command, and now Manwë and Varda were weakened. The attack was just beginning.

"Now, Sauron!" Melkor called.

"Forward!" Sauron shouted, and the Balrogs advanced, forming a circle around the Valar and Maiar.

"What are we to do?" came the voice of Vairë over the roar of the approaching Balrogs and the noise of the fire.

"We must put out the fire!" Manwë shouted. "Ulmo!"

"I cannot do this alone!" Ulmo said. It would take most of the water in the Great Lake surrounding the isle to quench the flames, and although it was easily within his power to summon every last drop, it could not be done in the amount of time they had.

"You will not be alone," a voice from behind told him. It was Sírënis. With her were the next most powerful of Ulmo's Maiar, Ossë and Uinen. Had the situation not been so grave, Ulmo would have smiled.

Aulë thought of a way in which he could help, too, and left the water-spirits to work their magic. He wove his way through the commotion until he reached Manwë, whose hands were black and smoldering from the evil fire of Gothmog's whip. "I have an idea," the Smith said.

"Yes?" Manwë said.

"I can raise the land and lift us out of their reach," said Aulë. "It will not stop them, but it will give us – and Ulmo – more time."

Manwë gave his approval with a nod. Taking a deep breath, Aulë raised his arms above his head. It would take all his power and concentration to do this. He could not be distracted.

_I made the world_, he told himself. _It is just another creation of mine, and can be altered as easily as anything else. Make this island a mountain_.

Below their feet, the ground began to rumble. Those on the sides of both good and evil were startled, and ceased their battle for a moment. Even Ulmo and his Maiar were distracted, but quickly realized what was happening and resumed their struggle with the lake.

Aulë clenched his teeth together, closed his eyes, and tried to concentrate harder. If only he had help, as Ulmo did! Where were his Maiar? Why had Curumë turned?

Melkor. Melkor had taken Curumë, the greatest of the order of the Maiar. They could not let that happen again. Melkor could not be allowed to win.

When he opened his eyes again, the dark forces were far below them.

Breathless and drained, Aulë collapsed to the ground. His efforts had bought them little time, a few minutes at most – the Balrogs were already taking to the skies – but it was a few minutes more than they had before.

Aulë felt a hand on his back, and then heard a voice. "You did it. Well done, friend."

Irmo. Aulë resisted the urge to lash out at his rival and thanked him instead.

Irmo extended his hand. Reluctantly, Aulë took it, and Irmo helped him to his feet. Aulë thanked him again without looking at him, brushed some dirt off his clothing, and then nearly walked into Yavanna. The two exchanged an awkward, painful glance, then looked away at the same time.

"We must drive away Melkor," Námo was saying to Manwë. "If he retreats, the others will follow."

Tulkas, who was standing next to them, was the next to speak. "Melkor is _mine_," the golden-haired Vala growled. He had driven away Melkor before, and not only had the evil spirit returned, he ruined Tulkas' wedding in the process. It was only understandable that he would seek vengeance.

With Oromë and two Maiar at his side, Alatar and Ramnë, Tulkas leapt down from the newly-created mountain. The four of them fought their way through a host of Balrogs, and Tulkas and Melkor began to do battle. Melkor, who had lost to Tulkas before and knew he would not win here and now, retreated just as Námo knew he would. But the fury of Tulkas was great, and he pursued Melkor, and would not be seen again until after the battle, when he would at last return to them in defeat.

"The Balrogs," said another Maia named Olórin. "Their master has fled, but the Balrogs have not retreated!"

"That is because another is commanding them in Melkor's absence," said Varda. "Look! It is Curumë!"

"We must rid ourselves of them!" declared Eönwë. "Come! Let us take up arms and drive these dark creatures away from our land!" His suggestion was met with widespread agreement.

"But what of Curumë?" asked. Ilmarë. "He must be stopped!"

"And I," Aulë interjected, "will be the one to stop him."

"You are weary from the raising of the land," Manwë said. "You must not go!"

"He is of my people," Aulë said. "It is my duty."

And before he could be stopped, he descended from the mountain and into the fire.

* * *

Sauron could not believe his eyes.

"Can it be?" the Maia formerly known as Curumë said with a chuckle. "Has my old master found the courage to confront me?"

He waved his hand, and a ring of fire appeared around them, preventing anyone else from interfering with their battle.

"This treachery will not go unpunished, Curumë," Aulë warned him. "There is no crime greater than betrayal."

In his hands, Sauron held a fearsome weapon: an iron rod with twin crescent blades, one on each end. He raised the weapon, spun it around once, then stopped and held it in attack position. "Then challenge me," he said, "if you _dare_."

Aulë was weary and had no weapons other than his hands. But he would not stand down. If this battle was to end in his death, then so be it.


End file.
